Crave
by seilleanmor
Summary: Based on a monologue from the play Crave by Sarah Kane. Set a couple of weeks after the season five Valentine's Day episode. The quiet ways they love each other. One shot.


In which Bee learns a monologue by writing fic about it. Bear with me.

* * *

_And try to communicate some of the overwhelming undying overpowering unconditional all-encompassing heart-enriching mind-expanding on-going never-ending love I have for you_

_**Crave**_**, Sarah Kane**

* * *

**Crave**

* * *

In the parking lot of the twelfth, Kate tugs her phone free from where it's ensnared in her pocket and taps out a text, smoothing her thumb over his name on the screen with so much tenderness that she has to check herself, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one saw.

This is what he does to her, the way that he loves bleeding over into her own actions so she finds herself being sappy and ridiculous and playful and _in this_. Reading over her message again, she ponders deleting it for a half a second and then shrugs, unlocks her car and slides into the driver's seat.

It's for him and he'll laugh and maybe she'll get to see it, share it with him.

_Ready or not, here I come._

Even as she pulls out of the parking space she's thinking about the lift of his mouth and the lines of mirth at the corners of his eyes. He doesn't text back, and she wonders if he even received her message or whether she's lost him to Nikki again.

As she drives, the rain bounces off the sidewalks, the road surface, cutting her off from the rest of the city. The rest of the world, and she so wishes he would just reply. There's never a parking spot near his building and she's ignored all of his (frequent) attempts to get her a spot of her own, so she has to run through the downpour.

She slams her way through the doors, stops and rocks back on her heels with the momentum as she glances around the lobby. The doorman shrugs at her, lifting an eyebrow, and she laughs and shakes her head in apology. The elevator offers an unwelcome reflection of her current state, lines of wear forged deeper by a horrible day and her skin slick with water as she stares back at herself from the chrome doors.

Doesn't matter, and it's too late now anyway to do anything about it. She uses her key, hesitates a moment to soak in the memory of the first time she ever did. It'd been stiff then, a battle just to get inside the loft. Psychosomatic, her brain told her. Just a manifestation of her terror, and dwelling on it now is not getting her anywhere closer to dry clothes and the touch of his mouth.

Kate nudges the door open with her hip, wrestling with her bag to get free of it and drop it on the floor of the coat closet. The relief that blossoms across her torso is immediate and she rolls her shoulders, relishes the starbursts of pain.

"Castle?" She steps out of her shoes, lets her coat pool on top of them. Arching her spine, a soft groan escapes and she chases it with a smile. If Castle were here he'd take her mouth for that, curve her backwards with the force of his need.

Speaking of, where is he? "Castle?"

The soft flutterings of panic start low in her stomach, sweeping their way up her bones and curling into the footholds of her ribcage. "Rick?"

Her phone cries out for her attention, the message tone startling her so badly she bites down hard on her lip, the sharp taste of iron flooding her mouth and yanking her hard out of the slide into terror.

_Come find me, love. _

_Oh_. Okay, so-

Yeah. She kinda did initiate this, huh? Find him.

She starts in the bedroom, straightens the corner of their sheets on her way past. They're new, all silk and ridiculous thread count cotton. He took her with him to pick them out, held her hand the whole way around the store.

Kate shudders, tugs her shirt up over her head and drops it on top of the laundry basket. Her skin is clammy like the dead, mottled and purpling. She nudges the closet door open, finds herself holding her stance as if she's making an arrest and has to shake her way out of the constraints of her job.

It's just Castle. Just this wonderful, beautiful man.

She finds him on the floor, knees up to his chest with her shoes for company. He grins up at her, shifts as if to move and then startles when she drops down next to him, hands coming up to reel her in.

Arching into his touch, Kate brushes her mouth to his jaw in askance and he tugs harder, aligns her against the wide expanse of his chest.

"Kate, you're freezing. What happened?"

She laughs at that, rolls her head against his shoulder to get at his chin and kisses it open-mouthed the way she would his lips. "It's raining."

"You could have changed before you found me. I would have waited, love." He smoothes his thumb over the shard of her cheekbone, her eyebrows, so much gorgeous tenderness in his eyes she could cry.

Kate turns her face into his palm, touches her mouth to his lifelines. "No clothes here. I took them home to do laundry."

"You don't have to do that. You can do it here. I have a laundry room. Free, Kate."

"No, I know. I just wanted to check on my apartment, pick up some bills." She shivers again and Castle stands, taking her with him with his hands curled around her elbows.

"Clothes. As beautiful as you are like this, you're freezing. You can borrow one of my shirts." His eyes crease at the corners and he presses a kiss to the end of her nose like punctuation, fingers coming up to cradle her face.

He rummages in one of his drawers, yanks out a shirt. _Green Lantern_, soft and almost translucent in places with wear. His and hers both. She lets him tug it over her head and feed her arms through, his own coming around her in an embrace, cheek pressed to her scalp.

"Better?"

"Yes." She tips her head back to meet his mouth, opens to him for a moment and then steps back, untangles herself from him. "Pants?"

"Alexis might have-" He starts towards the door, wheels back around at the snag of her fist in his waistband.

She smirks at him, turns to explore his drawers again. "No. I want _your_ pants."

"Boxers do?" He laughs, fishes out a pair and tosses them so they hit her square in the face, smother the echo of her own laughter.

"Sure."

He watches her shirk her pants; tug his boxers up over her own underwear. They're Batman, of course. Ridiculous man.

God, she loves him.

"You won't be cold? I can turn the heat up if you want."

Kate comes for him again, arches so her stomach kisses his even as their mouths meet and she takes everything he offers, grinning into their kiss. "Oh yes, please turn the heat up."

"I meant-" He splutters even as he clutches at her waist, hoists her up against him and takes her mouth, bruising and rich with want.

"I _know_. I'm fine."

Tipping her chin to grant him deeper access, Kate curls her arms over his shoulders and cards her fingertips through the so-soft hair at his nape, smiles at the ripples of awareness it sends clattering through him. He breaks away to settle his forehead against hers, hands slipping down to curve not-so-innocently at her hips.

"I like your shoes, but I like this more."

Kate lifts an eyebrow and steps away from him, turning back to fire her words over her shoulder as he stands prone in the closet, watching the shift of her hips. "Are you trying to dominate me, Mr Castle?"

"Never, Detective." He growls, tripping after her and landing his hands at the tops of her shoulders. Must feel the way she lifts into his touch because he's guiding her with the press of his body to sit at the end of the bed and climbing up to kneel behind her.

She's never actually thought to ask where he learned to give massages. If she's honest with herself, she's scared it has something to do with one of his past relationships. It's probably much the same reason as why he's never bothered to ask how exactly she developed such an advanced repertoire of ways to make him forget his own name.

Careful fingers work over the muscles in her shoulders, come up to her neck and into her hairline. Kate bites her lip and tries to keep the noises at bay. As much as she enjoys messing with him, she'd rather he didn't stop to take from her mouth. Not yet, anyway.

The flood of warmth through her muscles is too good to give up.

Castle finishes up, stands up and takes her hand. She crashes against the wall of his chest, so languid now she could fall asleep right here. Instead, he pulls her up to stand and tugs her back towards the closet. "I want to take you out to dinner."

* * *

"I can't believe you ate my whole basket of fries." He grumbles at her, but there are sparks of mirth in his eyes and he opens his arm to bring her in against his side on the couch. "You could have just gotten one of your own, you know?"

Kate grins and nuzzles down closer against his warmth, pillows her head at his chest. "Yours tasted so much nicer."

"Alright, I can't keep pretending to mind. You're adorable."

Right here, sleepy on the couch and curled up underneath the blanket she'll throw onto the floor later, she can't even summon the energy to dispute him. The way he looks at her, the soft touches and the softer-still smiles, almost make her believe that it could be true. Hard-edged Detective Beckett takes a leave of absence every time they kiss.

"How was your day?" She murmurs to him, reaching for the remote next to her feet and snagging it.

Castle's mouth settles at her temple and he smiles there, cards a hand through her hair as his other curls tighter still at her waist. "Good, I guess. I got three chapters done and another two outlined. Missed you."

"I missed you too. My job is not as fun without you."

It's so true, some days it feels like the only thing she's sure of. She doesn't want to do this, any of it, without him anymore. Kate flicks on the television and passes the remote over to him, lets him scroll through the DVR. Tonight she needs something mindless, something that will let her offer more of her focus up to the warmth of Castle's chest at her back.

"Oh, hey, _Forbidden Planet_ was on. You want to watch it?"

Kate shifts so her head settles against the curve of his neck and he brings a hand up to card through her hair. A year ago, two, she sort of expected that they'd sleep together someday. It was a sure thing. They couldn't just stave off the absolute gutting lust forever. Only, she never foresaw this for them.

Not in the beginning. Not even in those first fragile weeks where every glance was carnal, every touch narcotic. And yet now it's not a big deal, not something she often thinks about. She just gravitates towards him, and he to her, solace in the planes of their bodies.

"Sure. I might fall asleep though." Kate hums, nuzzling closer to him and wriggling her feet underneath the blanket. She stole a pair of his socks when they got home and now her toes feel strange, not used to the cavernous space around them.

"As long as you don't want to watch Valentine's Day again, I don't care what you do."

He's laughing at her, the big idiot, but all the same he's shifting to recline a little more and offer her more of his chest to pillow herself against.

"You liked that movie." She murmurs, swatting half-heartedly at him. Her fingers curl in the placket of his button down and she lets her eyes drift closed.

Castle's hand falls from the back of her skull to curl around her waist instead, keeping her close. As if she would possibly want to move. "Okay, maybe a little. Don't tell Esposito. You're turning me into a sap."

"You love it."

And as she slips under the film of sleep, her body dragging right down to the absolute silence of the deep, she thinks she hears him say _I love you_.

* * *

In the morning, Kate startles awake in Castle's bed and fumbles for her phone on the nightstand. Her tongue pulses in her mouth and her rib cage feels too tight, the loft still enfolded in darkness. Did he _carry her_?

He must have done, and she didn't even stir. Wow. She must have been more wiped out by this case than she thought. And a part of her is disappointed. Because if she'd been drowsy and half-awake but cognizant, she could have let him carry her to bed and actually enjoyed it.

Drawing her hand back, the touch of sleep is still so seductive that it takes her a moment to realise that this isn't her phone, but Castle's. And his lock screen is. . .a picture of her?

Wearing a sleep shirt that exposes the hard edge of one shoulder, her face turned into the pillow and her legs caught under the blankets. His lock screen is a picture of her sleeping?

Next to her in the bed, Castle is a smudged edge of darkness after the glare of the screen and Kate has to screw her eyes closed a moment to let them recalibrate. Once she can somewhat see again she flicks the edge of his jaw, pokes the sensitive stretch of his skin just under his ribs.

Maybe if it weren't the middle of the night and she hadn't just discovered his voyeuristic tendencies she might kiss him instead, let the press of her mouth be the thing to draw him back to her. But not right now.

"Kate, what- you okay?" He surges upright on a gasp, turns to look at her. Immediately awake, and it sends flares of concern through her gut. Is he so worried about her that even in the middle of the night he's on edge, even when he's asleep?

Doesn't matter. Not right now, anyway. "Castle. Did you take a picture of me sleeping?"

"What time's it?" He grunts, flopping back down to the pillow when he sees that she's not hurt or upset or in the middle of a PTSD episode.

Well, that was only one time and she didn't even mean to wake him for that, would have crawled back to her own apartment if she could have gotten her knees to lock.

"Castle."

"Sheesh, yes. Just one. You're so cute. I can't help it." He huffs at her, already halfway asleep again. In hindsight, it was maybe a little mean of her to do this in the middle of the night.

Even so. "Castle, that's just creepy. You can't have it as your lock screen. What if someone sees?"

"Fine. Change it. But I can keep the picture?" His words come half-muffled with pillow and she can't help the lift of her mouth, drops his phone back to the nightstand and curls up next to him.

Her mouth skirting his ear, Kate entwines her whole body around his arm and wriggles to get comfortable. "Okay, but if it shows up on twitter I will shoot you."

* * *

"I got bagels. You want one?" Castle says, lying on his front the wrong way round and drumming his feet against the pillow as he watches her potter around his bedroom. Kate bends at the waist to scrub a towel through her hair, her skin supple and still a little slick from her shower.

If he were to try and kiss her now. . .she wouldn't say no. "Sure. Bagel and coffee?"

"Of course. You need anything else?"

_Just you_, she thinks, but they really don't have time this morning and anyway, he doesn't really look up to it. Has to actually, physically drag himself from between the sheets and almost crashes into the doorframe on his way to the kitchen.

"No. Except maybe a good morning kiss, hmm?"

He misses her raised eyebrow, already in the living room, but he knows her well enough now to see it clearly all the same.

When he comes back she's almost dressed already, debating between two shirts. She turns to face him and holds up both, smirks at the wash of light over his face. "Which one?"

"Wait there. Don't move." He says, snagging his phone from the nightstand and making like he's trying to frame her in the shot. Kate tosses both shirts to the bed and stalks towards him, yanks the phone from his grip. "Hey, I'm just kidding."

"Well it's not funny." She huffs at him, and then she lets a smile overtake her face as she arches on tiptoe to crash her body into his. Her arms come up around his neck and she tilts her head, meets his eyes. "Wouldn't you rather have me pose for you specially? You remember I told you about the art class I modelled for."

He swallows hard, dips his mouth down to taste hers and then thinks better of it and takes a step back instead. "You're a cruel woman, Kate Beckett."

"Keep taking pictures of me when I don't know about it and you'll find out just how cruel I can be." She bites back, turning to the bed to snag the red shirt. Yeah. She feels daring today.

Facing away from him, she jolts at the touch of his mouth between her shoulder blades, the reverent way he kisses the thin skin there. He must taste her body lotion because he hums, tongue coming out to brush against her. His hands stroke over the stretch of her abdomen and it's too much, too close to. . .somewhere they're not yet.

It makes her think about things she absolutely shouldn't be thinking of, makes want flare hard in her gut. Kate turns to face him and pulls her shirt on, surprised at the hard edge of intensity on his face.

"I love your skin. And your hair. Your eyes, your mouth. But maybe- maybe most. I love your butt." He grins, all the seriousness dissolved by the time his words run out and his hands come around to cup her. Castle draws her in close and dips his mouth to her forehead, a quiet moment that feels almost like paying tithe.

* * *

It's dark when Kate gets home, and she never meant for that to happen. Castle's in the kitchen, shifting back and forth between the refrigerator and the island. He completes a couple more laps before he even notices her and then he moves for her, so swiftly she half expects him to fall at her feet.

"You're late."

"I'm often late."

"I was worried." He confesses, chases the admission with a self-deprecating grin.

Kate brings both palms up to cradle his cheeks, smoothes over the skin under his eyes. Suddenly so guilty, even though this can't be a surprise to him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm always late. I'm sorry it amazes you when I'm early. But this is my job. You know that."

"I know. It's fine."

"No." She shakes her head, clutches harder at him. "No. It's not fine. I told you six thirty and I should have called when I knew I wasn't going to make it. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you." He says, and it's good. Better than him trying to nullify her apology. "Come sit. Dinner's ready."

His hand is warm in hers, eases her fingers loose from the set of cold. It's almost spring, but the bite of winter lingers when she isn't looking. "What did you make?"

"Lasagne. That okay?"

"Sounds great."

He settles her at the counter, darts in for a kiss and then moves around to serve up their dinner. There's a glass of wine already poured for her on the counter and her heart sinks as she curls her fingers around it, takes a sip. "You wanted to surprise me."

"Uh, kind of? I know these last couple of cases have been tough ones, and I also wanted to say sorry for that whole photographing incident. It's just dinner, though. Don't beat yourself up over it."

After he sets her plate in front of her and comes around with her own, Kate stills him with slender fingers circling his wrist and comes in for another kiss. "Thank you, Castle. This is really sweet of you."

"Oh!" He stands up again, disappears into the pantry and comes back with a bunch of sunflowers. He hands them to her in a half-bow and she beams, draws in the overripe scent of them. Where on earth did he even find these in the middle of February?

"You have a greenhouse I don't know about?"

He grins, takes them from her and puts them in a vase she didn't even notice he already has set out, filled with water. "No, just connections in the floral industry."

That draws a laugh from her and she comes in to kiss his cheek, tracing the shell of his ear with a fingertip. "Well tell your connections thank you. The flowers are beautiful."

* * *

After dinner, Kate fills his bathtub and comes back through to the living room in just a robe to find him on the phone with someone. She sits at the other end of the couch and tries not to listen to his end of the conversation too blatantly.

Must be his publisher, because he's talking about an interview and can't they reschedule? Huh. He doesn't look happy, but when he hangs up the irritation just drops away and he moves towards her. There's no pretence in the slide of his hand up her thigh, how he nudges aside the neckline of her robe to touch his mouth to the dip of her throat.

"You taking a bath?"

"Mm. Care to join me?"

His whole face lights up at that and he almost trips over himself on the way to the bathroom, his clothes rapidly shed behind him. When he climbs in he hisses a breath through his teeth but doesn't deign to comment, the scalding heat of her bathwater no longer a surprise.

Kate climbs in after him and leans against the wall of his chest, lets her whole body go limp as his arms encircle her. Honestly, in moments like this she hates herself more than a little for everything she put them through, the year she made them wait.

There can't possibly be a better way to bring down the wall than all the ways Castle loves her. His skin against hers is achingly soft and Kate slams her eyes closed, takes a shaky breath. God, he's going to make her _cry_ and all he's doing is taking a bath with her.

It's just that these past few days he's been so reverent, been everything she needs, and she feels so horribly guilty for not really offering him anything in return. Time to stop being selfish.

"Castle? Thank you. I don't know what I ever did to deserve you, but I'm really grateful. Thank you for caring."

His voice in her ear is soft, gentle and lush like a rolling terrain, like hills in the distance. She loves him this way, the freshness of spring he's always able to bring. "You're so gorgeous, you know that? And you don't have to thank me. I like being the one that you let take care of you."

"Castle." Kate turns to face him, straddling his thighs and leaning in to take from his mouth. All that he offers up to her, and it's so good like this. And even with the bath, with the lotion she poured in, the smell of him makes her mouth dry. "I want you."

* * *

He's grumpy this morning, keeps making these little snide remarks about having gotten a terrible night's sleep and finally she can't take it anymore. "What's the problem?"

"You kept taking the blanket. I was freezing." He grunts, doesn't meet her eyes in the mirror. She even offered to let him shower with her, felt nubile until he declined and instead stormed off to the kitchen. Her coffee this morning seemed more begrudging than something he actually wanted to do for her.

"Seriously? Last week you complained you were too hot because I _didn't_ take the blankets." Kate frowns at him, starts to hip check him to earn herself some space and instead thinks better of it, carries her makeup bag through to the mirror in his bedroom.

Fine, whatever. His loss.

He comes back looking sheepish, settles his hands at her hips and kisses just underneath her ear. "I'm sorry. I'm being an idiot."

"Yeah, kinda." She turns to face him, runs her fingers over the newly-smooth skin at his jaw. "But it's okay. I forgive you."

He smiles at that, bubbles into a laugh when she echoes it and then it's a battle not to sag against him, not to dissolve entirely.

"Hey, about just now, with the shower. I wasn't rejecting you. You know that, right? I'd never reject you."

"I know." She says, lifts up to kiss his chin and then she turns back to finish up her makeup, lets it drop before he starts to brood too fiercely over it. "You coming to work today?"

"Yeah. Course. Can I tell you about my dream?"

Kate shrugs and he settles cross-legged on top of the sheets, closes his eyes like he has to reassemble the pieces before he can even begin to weave the story for her. "Okay, so there was this boy. Like an angel, I suppose? Enchanted. He lived in a tree. And he flew across the ocean just to tell you that he loved you. And suddenly I was him, mid-flight, and my ankles were cold because the water was splashing up in the breeze. But I just had to get to you, make sure that you knew."

And he hasn't even said it outright, not in so many words, but it guts her. She abandons her lip balm and crawls up onto the bed next to him, strokes at the soft hair of his nape. "Castle."

"Weird, huh?"

"Yeah. That's weird. But Castle?" She leaves the question open-ended, hopes he knows her well enough to spin together a conclusion for her.

"Yes. I do."

Not a surprise, not at all, but still she's checking her watch and then fumbling at his buttons, pushing at his shoulders to get him to just lie down, damn it. There's really no time, but she needs him all the same.

* * *

Kate keeps swatting at him, keeps telling him she really has to go. He knows that, can tell mostly because she didn't even take her shirt off. Hardly even managed to get her pants off, and that would have certainly been an interesting challenge this morning.

He knows she's late and she has to go, but it won't stop him from trying to keep her in bed. Won't stop him from being upset when she leaves. Only a little, still manly of course, but there's some sadness there always. Her retreating form bringing with it a rising tide of panic that makes absolutely no sense because she's coming back. She's always coming back.

"Hey Kate?" He says to the wavering figure in the doorway, schools his face into neutrality when she turns back around. She's so gorgeous like this, still flushed from the press of his body but trying so hard to be the consummate professional. And then that makes him think of consummation, of how he would ask if he thought she might say yes.

Instead, he says the truest thing he has this morning.

"You're well worth the effort."

* * *

**A/N: I actually started this thing way back in March and then I found it a couple days ago and thought why not finish it? I know nothing actually really **_**happens**_**, but I hope you liked it anyway.**

**Tumblr: **katiehoughton

**Twitter: **seilleanmor


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